‘We don’t appear to be a large company, because we have a very flexible infrastructure. All the actual dealings are carried out by the local agencies that are located in Athens and throughout the Balkans. All we have here is a legal adviser who makes a final check of the contracts, a small accounts department, my secretary and me.’
‘Was it Favieros who came up with this flexible infrastructure?’
‘All the organisation charts for his businesses were drawn up by Mr Favieros himself. He had no faith at all in management consultancy firms. He thought their systems were no better than manuals for beginners. He said that to organise a business properly, you had to love it and know how its heart beat.’
‘Does your company also do construction work?’
‘In a few Balkan countries which are lacking in infrastructure, we have set up construction companies to build apartment blocks. In Greece, we deal solely in the buying and selling of property.’
Yannelis was polite and friendly, but in effect was telling me nothing. I made one last attempt.
‘Of course, none of this explains why he committed suicide.’
She put her hands in the air and them let them fall back onto the desk. ‘No one can explain that to you, Inspector.’
‘And what’s going to happen to all these businesses now that the mastermind behind them no longer exists?’
The smile on her face reappeared. ‘Don’t worry. They’re in good hands. I won’t talk about myself, but Xenophon Zamanis is a very capable individual and knew Jason from their student days together.’
There was nothing else I wanted to ask, so I got to my feet. She said goodbye to me as politely as she had welcomed me.
When I got back to the Mirafiori, I didn’t start the engine up straightaway, but sat behind the wheel gathering my thoughts. At first sight, I had learned nothing new, yet that flexible infrastructure was ideal for concealing any illicit dealings if, that is, any existed. The traces all disappeared inside the labyrinth of real-estate agencies. I had to find the right person to show me where I should start looking.
Sotiropoulos was sitting opposite me and staring at me. We were at the Green Park in Mavromataion Street. The TV company he worked for was in Melissia, but he was also a partner in a PR company that had its offices in the Pedio tou Areos and so we had arranged to meet nearby. It was ten thirty in the morning and he was sipping his ouzo and waiting for me to open up. In the past, they always served ouzo with a meze: pieces of bread with a slice of tomato and olive, a bit of salami, half an anchovy. As the number of ouzos increased so did the size of the meze, till by the time you were on the tenth, you had a whole platter in front of you. Nowadays, whether it’s ouzo you drink or whisky or brandy, it makes no difference. They toss a bowl of peanuts and hazelnuts in front of you so you have something to nibble on.
The idea to talk to Sotiropoulos about Favieros’s offshore company came to me while I was having my morning coffee. Of course, Sotiropoulos was not the kind to do something for nothing. But what could he possibly want from me given my current situation? If, by any chance, I managed to get my position back, I would pay him back in forty-eight interest-free instalments in the same way that we pay for everything today, from fridges to favours.
‘This is the second time you’ve asked me about Favieros,’ Sotiropoulos said. ‘The first time it was by phone, now it’s face to face. Why are you so interested in his suicide?’
‘No particular reason. Out of personal curiosity,’ I replied as vaguely as I could.
‘Cut the bullshit, Haritos!’ he said vexedly. ‘That’s why you and I have never been able to get on together. Every time I start to like you and think what a good copper you are, you try to bullshit me and we’re back to square one.’
‘I don’t always tell you the truth because I know very well that in less than an hour, it’ll be on the news bulletins.’
‘So you sell me a lot of hot air to keep yourself safe.’
He had forgotten his vexation and laughed. ‘Listen to me, if what you tell me is not for airing on TV, I won’t air it. Because if I did, you’d shut up shop and I’m not so stupid as to want to lose my sources. So, what’s bothering you with the Favieros business?’
I continued to look at him hesitantly. He took his identity card from his wallet and placed it on the table.
‘Keep my ID as security,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that what we used to do in the old days? If I gave you something and I wanted to be sure you’d return it to me, I’d keep your ID. So keep mine till you’re sure that I won’t shout whatever you tell me from the rooftops.’
His action persuaded me and I decided to lay my cards on the table, some of them at least. I gave him back his ID and told him that I was investigating Favieros’s suicide, but unofficially, because something didn’t ring right about it. I kept Ghikas on the sidelines and didn’t even mention Yanoutsos. As I had foreseen, he first wanted to make sure I would repay the favour.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what I know and keep you informed of whatever I find out, but if you come up trumps, you’ll give the story to me first.’ He saw that I hesitated and added: ‘What are you looking at me like that for? If you’re carrying out an unofficial investigation, you’re under no obligation to stick to formalities when it comes to impartial dealings with the press.’ He laughed, as though suddenly coming up with an idea. ‘If I’m pushed, I’ll say I got the information from Yanoutsos.’
His argument, though he didn’t know it, left me with no choice but to agree.
‘Have you read Favieros’s biography?’ I asked him.
He shrugged. ‘No, but what could it tell me? Is there anything about Favieros that I don’t know?’
‘So tell me about his offshore company, because I have a feeling that there’s something fishy about it.’
He burst into raucous laughter. ‘You’ve obviously not found out anything, Haritos. Because if you had, you’d be reeking of fish. Favieros was up to all sorts of tricks. There wasn’t one public project that he was involved with that hadn’t been cut and tailored to suit him. If, with hindsight, he discovered that some project interested him, the competition for it would be annulled on account of some formality so that it could be repeated and his company could take part. If he wanted to set up some international consortium, the government would go out of its way to exert pressure so that he got what he wanted. There wasn’t a bank that he didn’t have dealings with and, not only was he not put under any pressure by the banks, but he was able to take out loans without any limit. He got approval for letters of guarantee for any sum simply by making a phone call.’
‘Is it true he had close ties with ministers?’
‘Close ties? He ate with a different minister every day from Monday to Saturday, and on Sundays he ate with the entire Cabinet.’
‘He said that they were friends of his from the time of the Junta.’
‘What’s the difference between pre-Junta and post-Junta Greece?’
‘From being a kingdom, we became a democracy!’
‘Wrong. Pre-Junta, when you were asked how you knew some government official, you said “from the army, we did our national service together”. Post-Junta, you said “from the Security cells in Bouboulinas Street, we were in the resistance together”. An acquaintance in the army got you, at best, a post in the civil service. An acquaintance in Bouboulinas Street made you into a millionaire in five years.’
‘If it’s as you say, it makes it even more difficult to explain why he founded an offshore company for real- estate dealings.’
‘Real-estate dealings?’ he repeated as if not having heard properly.
‘Yes. A network of real-estate agencies covering Greece and the Balkans.’
‘Are you sure it’s not just claptrap on the part of his biographer?’ he asked me.
‘The offshore company is called Balkan Prospect and its offices are in Maroussi. Its manager is a Mrs Coralia Yannelis.’
‘That’s news to me. I’ve never heard anything about it.’
‘So I found out something after all,’ I said ironically.
He stared at me with the look of someone flicking through his mental address book to find a suitable reply.
